Reading Between the Lines
by Dreamality
Summary: A collection of very short vignettes exploring the thoughts of the characters as they said certain lines during "Confidence Man." UPDATE: I am continuing with drabbles based on "Solitary." See chapter six for Part II.
1. Charlie, Claire, Kate

**Reading**** Between the Lines**

**by**** Dreamality**

**Genre:** Mainly angst, some hinted romance, and a lot of "general"

**Rating:** **G **for the most part, maybe **PG** in certain parts.

**Summary:** A collection of vignettes dealing with what was going through the characters' minds during certain parts of Confidence Man. All very brief.

**Disclaimer:** _Lost _and all related characters, settings, plots, etc. belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC. I claim no ownership and make no money from this venture.

**Author's Note: **My plot bunnies went _rabid_ during this episode. Seriously, it was like a hundred of the rabbits from Monty Python all on _speed_ decided to attack me and started throwing stories at me as if I were a wide receiver during a Superbowl and they were all Hail Mary passes. Whatever that means, I'm not a sports buff. Anyway, this is the result of me going crazy during Confidence Man and staying up until about three in the morning writing little drabbles about various lines that struck me. (Which was practically every line in the episode!!!) Vignettes are not in any certain order. For the most part it's chronological, but some quotes will be out of order.

**Extreme Spoiler Warning**: Do not read this if you have not seen Confidence Man and do not wish to know what happened.

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**Misunderstanding** (Charlie, Claire POV)

**"For when we get rescued."**

**"When we get rescued. Right."**

Claire hated the condescending way Charlie said that. She hated that he had suddenly taken on a superior tone just when she thought she'd found the one who wouldn't look down on her. It hurt her, and even though she tried not to show it, Charlie saw her face fall as she looked out at the ocean, perhaps thinking she might she a rescue boat and have the chance to prove Charlie wrong. There was nothing there, of course, and Claire looked down so she wouldn't have to look at Charlie and see him judging her, see her writing her off as a little girl who didn't know what she was talking about.

What Claire missed as she intently studied the grains of sand was that Charlie had not meant to belittle her. The words had come out wrong. He hadn't meant to dampen her spirits; he wanted to raise her up. More than anything Charlie wanted to pretend, just for one little second, that he were half as tough as Claire. She had the strength to hold on to hope, whereas Charlie's hope had slipped through his fingers even as the plane was going down.

Charlie wanted her strength. Claire just wanted his respect.

**-----**

**Savagery** (Kate POV)

**"We're not savages, Kate. Not yet."**

It was the "not yet" that frightened Kate the most. In those two seemingly simple words she found a myriad of responses. While there was truth to them, the fear that the truth inspired led Kate immediately to denial. No, they were not savages, and they would never be savages, because even though there were bad seeds giving root to malicious plants, the good far outweighed the bad.

Didn't it?

Later, when Jack was gone, his words did not leave Kate's mind. Denial was giving a feeble struggle against acceptance, and the more she contemplated the words the weaker it became. They were not savages –yet. They were mostly good people –for now. How long would it be until civilized behavior gave way to natural, base, carnal instinct? How long before the need to survive became the excuse for arguing, fighting, even _killing?_ Maybe when the herd of piglets became harder to find? Maybe when medicine ran low or when an injury occurred that went beyond Jack's expertise? Maybe when people realized that they were to be stuck on this island for quite some time and might never have to answer for any inappropriate behavior?

Already, so soon after crashing, animosity was developing that, if left unchecked could develop into true savagery. Sawyer had fought with… how many people? Jack was considering reverting to torture. Jin had already proven his willingness to use violence as an answer.

Kate was worried. No, more than that.

Kate was downright scared.

Should the rescuers she so desperately hoped for ever arrive, how many people would they find, and how many carcasses?

**-----**

**Fulfilled Prediction** (Kate POV)

**"If you do this…"**

Jack never heard the end of this sentence for two reasons. Firstly because he was too focused on Shannon and how to get her the help she so needed to listen to anyone else and secondly because the end of the sentence never came.

Kate couldn't say it. There were too many possibilities for her to choose just one to voice. If Jack did this, if he used brute force against Sawyer, what was stopping the rest of the survivors? Should one person think another was getting more than his fair share, what was stopping him from attacking the other man? After all, if Jack, the good doctor who everyone seemed to look to for guidance, did it, why shouldn't everyone else?

If Jack did this, it would bring to life a prediction Kate had hoped wouldn't come true. He had spoken the words only hours ago, and the addendum "not yet" had made Kate feel safe. Now the safety net was unraveling too fast. Savages, not yet. But close. Too close for comfort. Kate watched Jack and Sayid drag Sawyer to the edge of the jungle. They disappeared into the trees and she walked away to sit by herself on the shore. Some time later, she hoped the screams of anguish coming from a distant place were only her imagination.

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**To Be Continued…**

Reviews and critiques encouraged. This is pretty much the first time I've strayed away from Charlie/Claire fics, so if you have any suggestions on my characterization, I would really appreciate it.


	2. Sayid, Sawyer, Hurley

**Reading**** Between the Lines**

**by**** Dreamality**

Another series of short vignettes based on "Confidence Man."

**Disclaimer:**_ Lost _and all related characters, settings, plots, etc. belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC. I claim no ownership and make no money from this venture.

**-----**

**Connecting** (Sayid POV)

**"He says we have a connection."**

Jack saw the connection but refused to recognize it. Sayid, on the other hand, saw the connection and knew there was no denying it. It was impossible to miss. Every time Sawyer saw her, his eyes took on a new glint and they roamed to places Sayid would never dream of glancing at. Her own looks in return did not remain wholly innocent. Behind the defensiveness, Sayid saw her eyes smoldering.

While Sawyer argued that doctors attracted the ladies, bad boys had their own unique appeal. The rough-and-tumble, don't-answer-to-no-one, make-my-own-rules-and-break-'em-too boys had their own harems, their own following. Sayid did not know Kate well enough to judge whether she was the type to be a part of such a harem, but he saw the connection.

Jack was a doctor. Sawyer was a bad boy. What quality did Sayid have to offer? What could he possibly do to make Kate, elusive, mysterious, closed-off Kate, see him as more than a respectful man with a good mind?

**-----**

**Hate** (Sawyer POV)

**"You try too hard, Sawyer… Nobody's that disgusting."**

If only you knew, Kate. If only you knew the thoughts I had as a child, after I watched Daddy kill Mommy and then shoot himself, too. The thoughts I had when I realized that there was a man on this Earth walking free and clean after tearing apart my family and destroying my life.

If only you knew, Kate, of the things I did even after I swore revenge on that man. Of how I never grew up to be the good boy everyone expected me to be. Of how I ended up just like that man. Just like Sawyer.

Most little boys dream of following in Daddy's footsteps. I did, too, for awhile, until I realized what a fool my father was. When I realized that there were so many other fools out there, just like him, with pretty wives, big bank accounts, and tiny brains (among other things), I chose a different path. I followed Sawyer's example.

I hated myself. Still do, in fact, even as you stand there hating me. If only you knew, Kate, that none of this is an act. I hate myself, and you hate me, and somewhere out there, far away from this damned island, there's a little boy who hates me and a fool of a husband who ain't too pleased with me. His pretty little trophy wife probably ain't too happy either, come to think of it. So there's a family out there all angry and messed up, all because of a man called Sawyer.

Maybe that little boy's writing himself a letter to give to me someday. Maybe I didn't destroy his family quite as completely as Sawyer destroyed mine, but I came damn near close enough to it. Nobody's that disgusting? Is that so, Freckles?

If only you knew, Kate.

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**Battle**** Scars** (Hurley POV)

**"Fat guy's hoarding all the food? Is that what you think?"**

Hurley's dealt with people like this all his life. It's nothing new, and the scars they gave him run deep, yet the pain is still just as fresh. Fresher, even, because it's Charlie saying the words.

Charlie, the one he thought was nice. Charlie, the one who Hurley thought he might be able to put a little trust in. Charlie, the one he could _relate_ to. Jack was above him. Sayid was… Hurley couldn't figure Sayid out, really. Sawyer was just a jackass, and the others, well, none of them seemed too excited about buddying up with a guy like him. But Charlie didn't seem to mind, Charlie didn't seem to notice or care that as big as Hurley was on the outside, his brain didn't exactly match in proportion.

Then Charlie had to go and ruin it with a few insinuating remarks. Yeah, Hurley knew he was big. He'd seen enough mirrors in his life to have gotten the memo a _long_ time ago. And yeah, he did like to eat. Food was the friend he turned to when all his friends turned their backs on him, which only aggravated his problem. By then it became an addiction, his drug, and Charlie couldn't understand that. No one as skinny as that guy could understand Hurley's problem.

But he wasn't a thief. He wasn't like Sawyer. He didn't have a secret stash, because in all honesty Hurley wasn't too worried about his survival. What did he have to return to? A life of ridicule and loneliness, that's what, and he'd rather die on a deserted island after losing a few pounds than return to that kind of life.

If Charlie wanted to make accusations, that was his own business, but Hurley just didn't want to be grouped in the same category as Sawyer. After all, Sawyer may see Hurley as nothing but a "lardo," but who was the one who had the secret stash of peanuts?

Charlie apologized, and Hurley shook the whole situation off, but he couldn't help but feel the pain whenever he noticed Charlie not looking into his eyes, as he did so much with Claire, but rather staring at his belt.

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**To Be Continued…**


	3. Sayid, Sawyer

**Reading**** Between the Lines**

**by Dreamality**

Even _more_ drabbles based on Confidence Man.

**Disclaimer:** _Lost _and all related characters, settings, plots, etc. belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC. I claim no ownership and make no money from this venture.

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**Tortured Soul** (Sayid POV)

**"I think you've never actually tortured anybody in your life."**

**"Unfortunately for us both, you're wrong."**

Sayid was in his element now, and it pained him more than words could express to recognize it.

As Jack tried once more to reason with him, as he tried once more to let Sawyer do the right thing, Sayid's muscles quivered with anticipation. This was his territory, and as soon as Jack stepped away he stepped in to take over.

Jack knew compassion. As a doctor, that was his expertise. Sayid knew the opposite. He wished it weren't so. He wished he didn't have to be the one to suggest to Jack that they force the answers out of Sawyer.

His hand gripped the handle of the hunting knife. It was not a weapon he was as familiar with, but he had been trained well in his area, his art of communication, and he knew what to do with it. The bamboo stalks were not familiar, either, but similar enough to reeds that he knew what to do with those as well. His dark eyes met Sawyer's light ones, and for a moment he saw weakness there.

Then Sawyer realized Sayid's intentions. Sawyer's gaze hardened. Sayid's was granite. He grasped Sawyer's hands. The bamboo was as effective as the reeds, he discovered as he dug the sharpened points into Sawyer's tender nail beds.

The anguished cries of the breaking man tore through Sayid's resolve. Yes, it was unfortunate for them both, because as much as Sawyer did not be the one in his position, Sayid regretted even more being the man in his position.

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**Caress** (Sayid POV)

**"Where is it?"**

Sayid murmurs the words into Sawyer's hair. His mouth is close enough to the scalp to kiss it, to caress it with his lips. The irony that Sayid should think of such a tender act even as he commits these acts of brutality is enough to make him want to laugh, but he doesn't.

He doesn't, because he is a trained military communications officer. This is not the time to laugh. Nor is it the time for thinking of caressing anything on Sawyer with any part on his own person. It is not that Sayid is attracted to Sawyer. Rather he sees in Sawyer the deficiency that makes him a hostile person. It makes Sayid sad to see how tiny an impact love has played in Sawyer's part. He feels sure that if Sawyer just had the experience of loving something other than himself or of caring for someone beyond what he could gain from them, Sawyer would not be in this position.

However, when Sawyer speaks Kate's name and a look comes into his eyes that tells no lies about his feelings for the woman, all sympathy dissolves from Sayid.

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**Learning to Love** (Sawyer POV)

**"You're really gonna let that girl suffocate 'cause you can't bring yourself to give me one little kiss."**

Sawyer is calculating, manipulative, and an all-around con man. He knows how to charm them or guilt them into bed, and either way works fine for him. This banter with Kate is no different, besides the fact that he is tied to a tree and bleeding and in pain.

As soon as the words drop from his mouth their impact is seen in Kate's eyes. He watches the internal debate that lasts right up until she's kneeling in front of him, close enough for him to inhale her every exhale. He can see the emotions waging war on each other and the moment one triumphed, Sawyer saw it and barely restrained a smug smile.

Kate was just another woman for him to conquer. Another one to break. It was no different than with Jess or any of the women before her. Sure, Kate didn't have a rich husband for him to profit from, but who needed money on an island? She did have other _assets_, though, that Sawyer could definitely benefit from.

The gap between Sawyer's mouth and Kate's mouth was bridged gradually. Kate was hesitant, which Sawyer expected. What caught him by surprise was how, once he was actually immersed in the kiss, he wasn't thinking about what he was going to gain from it. It had been so long since he'd kissed a woman just for the sake of kissing her that he didn't know how to react. For a moment he was confused and almost pulled away until he realized just how good it felt. He didn't have to think about his next move or worry about her husband barging in. He didn't have to plan ahead and think about how to go beyond getting in her pants and get into her wallet.

Maybe Sawyer did have something to gain from Kate after all. This, however, had nothing to do with assets, whether financial or physical. It had everything to do with learning what love felt like all over again.

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**To Be Continued…**


	4. Boone, Michael, Kate

**Reading**** Between the Lines**

**by**** Dreamality**

**Disclaimer:** _Lost _and all related characters, settings, plots, etc. belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC. I claim no ownership and make no money from this venture.

**-----**

**Vulnerability** (Boone POV)

**"Boone… don't leave me alone, okay?"**

With six words and one look into Shannon's eyes, Boone was immediately transported to a time when Shannon and he were both nothing more than children. They had been rollerblading down their street, and after seeing Boone demonstrate a few tricks he'd learned from watching the older boys at school, Shannon had eagerly tried to emulate her older brother. An unseen rock sent her flying towards the unforgiving black asphalt and her scream brought Boone flying to her side. With her knee oozing with blood, her hands black and scraped, and tears filling her eyes at an ever-quickening pace, Boone had put his arm around her.

"It's all right, Shan, I'll take care of you," he had assured her with the confidence of an older brother who knew that it was his job to do so.

"Just don't leave me alone, kay?" six-year-old Shannon sniffled. And Boone hadn't left her.

Times had been very, very different back then. It was before miniskirts and makeup. Before high school parties and strings of boyfriends and frat parties and it was long before the day Shannon had screamed that she wished he weren't her brother and slammed the door in his face so hard one of the hinges never worked quite right again.

Now, an older Shannon was begging him to stay with her once more. Gone were her impenetrable wall and her self-assurance. In their stead was vulnerability, and Boone had not seen his sister in such a state for nearly two decades. He forgot about Sawyer and Sayid and Jack and went back to her side.

"Breathe, Shannon, just breathe," he coached, watching with pride as she inhaled through her nose and breathed out of her mouth.

"Don't leave me," she repeated. "I'm sorry, Boone, I…"

"Don't, Shannon. Now isn't the time. It's all right. I'll take care of you," Boone said quietly.

Shannon continued to breathe, even though each precious gulp of air was a struggle nearly too taxing on her diet-ravaged body. Boone stayed by her side because it was his duty. He was the older brother and she needed him. Shannon made not one negative comment, which hadn't happened for years. Once she even reached out and squeezed Boone's hand, and the touch was so unexpected it sent a jolt up his arm.

He looked at their hands, his rougher and calloused and with short, stubby fingernails all bitten off in contract with her smooth, feminine hands with nail polish only chipped in a few places. Different, yet he knew that underneath the skin they were the same. Maybe this island, maybe this asthma, was not the easiest way to forge reconciliation, but at that moment it was all Boone had, and he was grateful.

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**Warning** (Michael POV)

**"Don't, man. I'm telling you. Don't."**

Michael knew that the dude didn't speak a lick of English. He knew that his words were probably falling on deaf ears, yet he hoped some of their meaning would not be lost on the controlling, temperamental Korean man who didn't seem to appreciate Sun one bit.

Michael couldn't explain why Sun's husband made him mad. Of course there was the fact that he had been attacked because of a watch and might have been killed if not for Sayid and Sawyer's intervention, but there was more underneath that. It angered him that someone like _that_ could have someone like _Sun_ and not even be thankful. Instead of appreciating Sun as a beautiful and special woman, which she quite obviously was, the man took advantage of her and controlled her like a little dog or something.

It wasn't his place to tell the guy what to do with his own wife, but it wasn't in his nature to sit back and watch someone like Sun get abused. Even though this guy, whatever his name was, June or Jin or Jimmy or whatever, had no idea what Michael was saying, their translation was written all across his face. He got the message. Whether he would listen to it or not, Michael would have to pay close attention in the following days to find out.

Not that it was a particularly hard thing to do. He paid close attention to Sun regardless.

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**Revolt** (Kate POV)

**"If the tables were turned, I'd watch you die."**

The bottom of Kate's stomach dropped out and she blanched when Sawyer uttered the words. Jack was trying to save his _life_ while Sawyer lay there, ungrateful as ever.

_And Kate had kissed him._

She shuddered and turned her face away. One of her hands rose to her lips, which felt as though they were burning. She had kissed this… this _thing_… this thing that did not even have a heart, much less a soul. She had kissed him, and for what? He didn't have the medicine. They were no closer to saving Shannon than they had been before dragging Sawyer into the jungle.

It was just a kiss, Kate told herself, even though she knew it was much, much more. For a moment she thought Sawyer might have reawakened feelings in her she had buried long ago. Then he said those words and revealed his true colors.

Sawyer would never change. Kate knew this before she kissed him. She forgot it as she kissed him. Now she was reminded of it, and the full force of it socked her in the stomach. It made her sick. It made her dizzy. She wanted to run away from him, to put as much distance between her and this monster, this shadow of a man, this weak invertebrate, but she also wanted to stay close to Jack. So she remained, and she looked down at Sawyer, and found him looking back at her.

The heat in his look sent heat to her cheeks while fire rose in her eyes. Again she shuddered and looked away. The fine tremor in her hand did not go unnoticed by Sawyer. Neither did the look of disgust on her face, and something like anger, or perhaps shame, rose within him, making him look away from her judgmental eyes.

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**To Be Continued…**


	5. Kate

**Reading**** Between the Lines**

**by Dreamality**

The final collection of drabbles that I wrote following the episode "Confidence Man."

**Disclaimer:** _Lost _and all related characters, settings, plots, etc. belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC. I claim no ownership and make no money from this venture.

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**Punctual **(Kate POV)

**"Don't you feel sorry for me"**

Was it a question? Was it a statement? Maybe a warning? Did it need a period at the end, or a question mark, or perhaps an exclamation mark? Kate didn't know, and even though it seemed a trivial matter, she couldn't stop thinking about it after she had left the tent with Sawyer's angry shouts following her as she retreated.

_Don't you feel sorry for me?_ If it were a question, the answer was yes. Kate felt terrible for him for too many reasons to name. She felt sorry that he had been tortured for no reason and she felt sorry that his mother and father were dead. She felt sorry that he felt the need to push everyone away and she felt sorry that he seemed beyond redemption.

_Don't you feel sorry for me._ If it were a statement of fact, that would make sense, too. Kate was sure her pity was quite evident on her face. Since Sawyer didn't seem the type to enjoy being pitied, she hoped it hadn't been a statement. She didn't want Sawyer to know the extent to which she pitied him. She didn't want him to see how much she cared and how badly she wished she could help him. Sawyer must not get the upper hand. Of that Kate was sure.

_Don't you feel sorry for me!_ A warning seemed most likely. As in, do not feel sorry for me because I do not need your sympathy. Sawyer was proud, too proud, and even when there were people around him who wanted to do the right thing and wanted to extend a hand of friendship, he kept them at arm's length or pushed them away altogether. If Sawyer had glimpsed Kate's feelings he would have been angered to the point of rage and warned her not to feel such things. It was too late, though, because Kate had read the letter. Kate had seen his tortured soul drawn out in childish scrawl on a wrinkled piece of lined paper.

It was probably a mixture of the three, Kate decided after much deliberation. After all, as Sawyer himself had put it, he was a complex guy.

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**An Issue of Trust** (Kate POV)

**"I can't think of a better person to do it than the only one I trust."**

As Sayid walked away with his backpack slung over one arm, Kate wanted to yell a million things at his retreating back. None of them ever made it out of her mouth. Sayid was a frown man and Kate felt foolish for worrying on his behalf, yet she could not shake the feelings of anxiety she had as she watched him walk away, alone on the beach, his footsteps leaving the only evidence of his presence.

Sayid was a proud man, just as Sawyer was, but he showed it in more subtle ways. Rather than acting hard and keeping everyone at bay, Sayid showed his pride in the way he spoke, the way he carried himself, the way every movement seemed to be part of an intricate dance. Kate admired his self-assurance, his confidence, and the fact that he masked his aloofness so well.

Sayid was not cocky, as Sawyer was, but they did share the similarity of keeping their distance from everyone around them. Kate hated that. She wanted to get closer to Sayid, to get to know him and find out how this man worked, what he thought about, and what his past was like. Yet he pushed her away, gently of course, but firmly. No matter how she tried, Sayid remained an enigma. Someone to be admired from afar but never touched or seen close up.

Now he was walking away from her, and while his kiss on her hand had been tender, his eyes had remained closed to her. The drapes were shut so she could not look within and find his soul. Sayid did not trust her, Sayid did not trust anyone except himself, and as much as Kate wished it to be different, her chance to change that was gone. Sayid was walking away, and she might never again have the chance to get any closer to Sayid.

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**The End.**

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I love you all and I thank you from the BOTTOM of my HEART for all your support!!! 3 3 3


	6. Part II Solitary Jack, Sayid

**Reading**** Between the Lines**

**by**** Dreamality**

Part Two: Solitary

And now, simply because LOST is a breeding ground for plot bunnies, I am continuing with my drabbles. This batch is based off lines from the most recent episode, _"Solitary,_" so if **you don't want to be spoiled** _(spoilt?)_ **don't read these.**

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**Losing Control (Jack POV)**

**"Change your own bandages." **

As soon as he said the words, Jack regretted them. As soon as he saw the flash of triumph in Sawyer's eyes, he felt properly shamed. It was a moment of weakness for him, and revealing weaknesses to the enemy was never a strategic move when engaged in war.

While outwardly he remained the perfect image of a man in control of his life, deep within himself Jack was really nothing but an impulsive idiot. It was a lesson he had learned a long time ago when all his "good deeds" ended with black eyes and disappointed looks from his father. The ultimate blunder occurred when he made a mistake so heinous it drove his father away from him forever.

When the corpse on the cold metal table of the morgue in Australia was revealed to him and Jack realized that his father was dead, a familiar vow flashed through his mind. _Never again._ As he had a hundred times before, Jack swore to himself. _Never again will I lose control. I won't act rashly_.

Now, barely two weeks later, Jack had already broken the promise to himself. He had allowed himself a moment of impulsive action. He had abandoned his civil duty to assist those who needed it. Above all, he had given Sawyer fuel for his fire. In the battle for the attention of a particular freckled beauty, Sawyer had the upper hand.

Sawyer had been goading him, and Jack had fallen for it. Now, not only was Sawyer's smug look boring into his back, but Kate was speaking angrily to him. She was berating him for a mistake he regretted deeply. A mistake borne of an impulsive action. Jack's control was slipping, and soon he feared he would lose it all and become nothing more than what his father had left the world as.

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**Disappointed (Jack POV)**

**"Accidents happen when you torture someone."**

The disappointment in her eyes cut through Jack's heart more cleanly than any knife or bullet could have.

He had seen such disappointment in another pair of eyes. His father's eyes. On countless occasions Jack had tried to please him only to be rewarded with cold, hard anger. It was his father's specialty, even more so than surgery.

As much as Jack hated to admit it, even to himself in the quietest, most private of moments, once his mind recovered from the initial shocking grief of hid father's sudden death, he felt almost relieved. No longer would he have to strive daily to meet his father's expectations only to fall short by a milestone. No longer would his life's purpose be to simply get a smile or a nod of approval from his father. Jack didn't have to be perfect anymore. As quickly as he realized this fact, Jack recognized that since he had programmed himself to act in such a way, overcoming that would be difficult. Gradual. So on the island Jack acted normally, acted as his habits told him to. Then, slowly, he started to make mistakes. Not exactly on purpose, but not entirely on accident. No one here would care, surely. No one here _needed_ him to be perfect, as his father had.

Now Kate was looking at him with that same disapproval. Within his chest, Jack's heart turned strangely, as though it were being wrenched away from him. Slowly, he came to the realization that his life was already too succumbed to the urge to be the perfect model. He had established himself as the model citizen, and now that he was revealing his short fallings, the others could not accept it.

Had it been anyone else looking at him that way, Jack might have been able to shake it off. But this was Kate. Her opinion mattered above anyone else's, for reasons Jack could not explain. He just looked to her for approval, and in some instances guidance. The growing rift between them, which began with the splitting of the camps and was now culminating now in Sawyer's admittedly unjust torture, made Jack uneasy.

Especially when he remembered Sawyer's reference to making out with Kate and the lingering look he caught between Kate and Sawyer later that day.

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**Hope (Sayid POV)**

**"She's dead because of me." **

The guilt had been eating at Sayid for years –nearly a decade, in fact –yet somehow speaking them aloud doubled the intensity of the pain. His very vocal chords seemed to burn with unadulterated remorse and his lips seemed to recoil in disgust when his breath carried the sentence into the air.

Nadia. Beautiful and vulnerable and strong, all at once. So trusting when she looked into his eyes that day, asking like a child what he had brought her. As if she expected him to pull out a quaint toy from the marketplace and crouch down to show her how to play with it. When she saw the feigned coldness in his eyes and heard the forced threat in his voice, her soft eyes had taken on a new edge. Sayid saw that, while Nadia was capable of acting the innocent, she was more than ready to display her true strength.

Fighting back tears as he marched in front of Nadia, flanked as she was by two soldiers who had never known her as the giggling girl in the schoolyard, proved to be harder than any test set for him as initiation into the Republican Guard. When he dismissed the two guards and was left alone with Nadia, he thought that for just a fleeting instant there had been fear in her eyes. It was quickly replaced with determination.

Her offer, her plea for him to accompany her, was tempting. Very tempting. But he had heard the stories. He knew what happened when a soldier deserted the army of Saddam Hussein. Should he be found, merciless torture would precede death, and if he were not found, his family would be tortured to extract the information they did not have. Sayid knew he could not go with her, as much as he would have liked to escape his life of cyclical brutality.

The pain of the bullet entering his flesh and embedding itself in his muscle was nothing compared to the pain of knowing that, in addition to being an enemy of the country, Sayid had just placed "murder and attempted murder of Republican Guardsmen" onto Nadia's list of crimes. Should she be found –and the methods for finding traitors were numerous and nearly flawless –she would undoubtedly be shot on sight. No chance for questioning, no chance for explanation, just quickly administered death and one more name on the list of eliminated dissidents among Hussein's people.

Now Nadia was dead. How could she not be? How could she escape the wrath of the Republican Guard, especially now that she was blamed for the murder of one of their own ranks? Sayid's one chance for love, his one chance to set his soul free, was gone. His heart shuddered as he lay strapped to the cold metal bed, his body still screaming in protest to the electrical shocks.

The French woman, his adductor, the one who had brought up these memories and forced him to remind himself of the evils lurking in his past, stroked his face. There was compassion in her eyes. Tenderness in her touch. Gentleness in her face.

Perhaps, if not love, Sayid might find hope again in this world, in this woman, and he knew from watching Nadia that hope was all one really needed to survive.

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**To Be Continued…**


	7. Jack, Danielle, Sayid

**Reading**** Between the Lines**

**by**** Dreamality**

**Disclaimer:** _Lost _and all related characters, settings, plots, etc. belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC. I claim no ownership and make no money from this venture.

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**Liberty**** (Jack POV)**

**"Our lives suck."**

While he would never admit it to anyone, Jack did not consider Hurley to be of above average intelligence. He was truly a hard worker with a good heart, but he was lacking in the intellectual department. While he did not exactly consider himself superior to Hurley, Jack did feel that he had a better grasp on reality than the sweet-tempered man.

When he saw the makeshift golf course Jack's first reaction was disbelief. They had just _crashed_ on an _island_. They needed to focus on _surviving_, not playing inane games! Didn't Hurley see that? Couldn't he understand?

Then Hurley explained. And Jack listened. And reconsidered his earlier judgment of Hurley.

It took Hurley's unique point of view to open their eyes. Their lives truly did suck, but was it the result of the crash or of their own mindsets that made it so? Was there some rulebook somewhere stating that if one were to crash on a deserted island and miraculously survive one was meant to live a life of utter sucking? After considering it, Jack decided that he was sure there wasn't. Apparently Hurely was in agreement, and he had possessed the foresight to recognize this fact long before the PhD-possessing Jack.

So Jack gripped the seven iron in his hands. He took a deep breath. As he raised the golf club, he felt the tension melt from his shoulder and for just one little instant Jack's mind was free from worry and responsibility. Hurley was right. They needed this release.

That just begged the question: Could Hurley be right about the dinosaurs?

**-----**

**Solitary (Danielle POV)**

**"I think you've been alone for too long." **

Alone. Yes, I have been alone, more alone than you could ever know. It is more than being the only person on this island. It is more than having no one to talk to for over a decade. It is being lost in the dark void of loss, drowning in grief with no one to save me, being strangled by my own guilt.

Do you know what it's like to kill a loved one? Perhaps you do. Perhaps you understand better than anyone could. Yet you still had hope. You still had a chance of finding her, this Nadia you speak of so tenderly.

I had no hope. I took all hope away the instant my finger touched the trigger. I saw his face as he stared at me, horror-struck, begging me to spare him. Didn't he understand? I couldn't. He had become a danger, not only to himself by to me, our child, and potentially the world should we be rescued. So I closed my eyes to block out the image of his face and tried to ignore his protests. Then the gunshot went off and the impact of the gun sent me flying backwards. I fell onto the ground and lay there for a long while. I could hear the breath leave his lungs and the blood deep out of the wound. I could hear his anguished soul still calling to me, and at that moment I realized how alone I truly was, and would be for the rest of my life.

I had to do it. I had to kill him. And then I was alone. I sentenced myself to solitary confinement. For so many nights I lay awake, looking at the sky and wishing he were here with me to count shooting stars. For so many nights I lay awake, regretting my decision.

Perhaps, sometime during my time alone, I did go crazy. Perhaps I am insane and you have a right to look at me so pityingly.

Yet why do I feel as though I have a stronger grasp on that which we call reality than you ever have?

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**Playing the Game**

**"Pretending to be something I know you're not."**

How is it that she sees through him? How can she see beyond the carefully structured façade, the outer wall he so meticulously constructed? It was this way when they were little as well. She saw what he could not.

Sayid wished he didn't have to pretend anymore. He wished he could be free like her, free to stand up against the wickedness and the terror. She was so much stronger than him, he realized as he stared into her defiant eyes, asking her to give in and answer their questions.

Sayid didn't want to pretend. He just wasn't strong enough to stop. And his weakness cost him a piece of his soul.

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**To Be Continued…**


	8. Sayid, Walt

**Reading**** Between the Lines**

**by Dreamality**

**Disclaimer:** _Lost _and all related characters, settings, plots, etc. belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC. I claim no ownership and make no money from this venture.  
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**Irreparably Broken (Sayid POV)**

**"You see? Some things can be fixed."**

Some things, yes, like this simple music box. Other things are not so easy. It's ironic, really. The things that matter most are usually the least reparable, while trivial matters like this music box only require a small amount of work.

I wish I could fix my past. I wish I could repair the damage my reckless decisions made. I wish it could be done with only a few minutes of work, like this music box.

Nadia. She was innocent, untainted despite the horrors she had seen. When I was given the order to execute her I was gripped by fear, something a member of the Republican Guard was _never_ supposed to feel. When I threw the mask at Nadia and she realized what was about to happen, there had been no fear. Only disappointment. I envied her courage.

Now she is gone. No matter how hard I wish it were not true, my heart tells me that she is not in this world anymore. No amount of time or effort will ever change that, and my past remains forever broken and reduced to ruin. Without Nadia it seems that my future is destined to be the same; irreparably broken.

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**Fathering (Walt POV)**

**"So we'll play later, all right? Cool."**

Walt watches Michael walk away with disbelief etched on his young features. His father, who is supposed to be caring for him in lieu of his mother, cares more about this stupid game than about Walt, his only child.

This man does not know how to be a father. That much is obvious to Walt. He can pretend all he wants to be a kind, loving man, but he is no father. Walt doesn't even like being around him because it reminds him painfully of his mother's kindness, which he will never feel again.

She had been great. She had been the World's Best Mom, as far as Walt was concerned. Despite the lack of support from Michael, she raised Walt to be polite, respectful, and nice. When he was sick she cured his ailment. When he was hurt she kissed away the pain. When he was bored she invented a new game to keep him occupied.

Then she died. Michael came to take Walt to America. He didn't know how to fix the aching, deep, endless hurt within Walt. As hard as he tried –which, to Walt, didn't seem hard at all– he never came even close to being like Walt's mother. He didn't know how to give proper hugs or how to talk to him or how to discipline him or how to raise him.

He didn't even know how to be a father.

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**The End.**


End file.
